Can you please review two of my personal statements and tell me which one to go for?

Personal statement 1:

Thick drops of sweat cascade down my forehead. Trepidation threatens to engulf me.

I stand anxiously, in front of a class of 50 students, holding a marker in my hand. The barely seven-meter-wide class blatantly questions my existence. I am already 5 mins in the class- there is no turning back.

There was a time when my family in Surkhet, Nepal, couldn’t afford even a handful of rice. My mother still remembers nights when I used to cry myself to sleep. Desperate to change our fate, my father left for New Delhi to study computer science. Upon his arrival, He transformed our rented living room into a classroom, teaching neighborhood children the basics of computing. I would sit cross-legged beside him, mesmerized by the flicker of our old monitor and the calm certainty in his voice. Yet, I always felt myself out of place - convinced my place was only that of an observer, never a leader.

The anxiety hit me. To further worsen the scenario, my principal stands right outside my classroom observing my first class. I freeze for a moment. To say that I was challenged and conflicted would be an understatement. But I must act.

Amidst all the struggle, inspiration hits me.

Vibrant class full of students, looks of disapproval, and moments of uncertainty were part of the routine during the classes accompanying my father. Yet, Baba would never panic. He would instead focus on what mattered. He would always tell me being a tutor is about the topic more than it was about me. All my life, I thought it was about me, but, in that moment, I realized that it is more about these tens of students in front of me. As I stood before my students, the scene shifted from me sitting cross-legged beside my father, watching him teach, to me standing in front of my class gesturing at the whiteboard. I was no longer the one asking the questions; I was the one expected to provide the answers.

The past start to clear as I shift my focus from myself to the topic. There is anxiety; there is doubts and disapproval. Yet, in all the mayhem, there is my newfound confidence. Emboldened, I retake charge and continue.

A never-ending 45 minutes-long later, the class ends. My feet are still shaking, my body is drenched in sweat, yet the pounding of my heart is not that triggered by horror. It is excitement, an indication of a discovery. That day, a very ‘typical experience’ for any tutor became the perfect instrument of self-reflection for me. For the first time, I witnessed myself reaching that pedestal I had placed my father on. For the first time, I realized that I could.

This self-realization has proven integral to my journey in the past few years. My courage enables me to effectively take up bold challenges, question the existing societal standards, and advocate for reforms. My perseverance equips me to pursue my visions and dreams in the face of hardship, no matter how intense the opposition may be.

Transitioning from a reluctant, anxious tutor to becoming an enthusiastic leader, I witnessed my personality morph into that of a young, confident adult who has the courage to found the state’s first CS club, become the president of Youth Red Cross Society, and excel in academics to the point of state’s recognition.

But was all of this possible had it not been for my tutoring experience? Surely not! I would have never thought that teaching eighth graders would teach me so much about myself.

Now, as I venture outwards in my life, I move forward cognizant of my potential and a profound self-assurance that enables me to utilize them effectively. I move forward, self-actualized and knowing where that can take me.

Personal Statement 2:

There was a time when my family in Surkhet, Nepal, couldn’t afford even a handful of rice. My mother still remembers nights when I used to cry myself to sleep. Desperate to change our fate, my father left for New Delhi to study computer science. He returned not with riches, but with resolve. He transformed our rented living room into a classroom, teaching neighborhood children the basics of computing. I would sit cross-legged beside him, mesmerized by the flicker of our old monitor and the calm certainty in his voice. At the time, I didn’t understand coding, but I understood something deeper: the power of knowledge to restore dignity and the thrill of creating something from nothing.

That early exposure planted a seed. It grew slowly, through observation, then exploration. During one summer in high school, a visit to my cousin, who worked in software development, helped me see how technology could turn ideas into impact. Before I left, my cousin showed me an old book titled “Basics of Computing” that our father had given him years ago. Its pages were crumpled and dusty, the lines blurred and almost erased, yet the lesson it held called to me. The pride with which my cousin held it made me realize how one person’s encouragement could transform another’s life. Motivated, I took an online web development course and built a website for a local restaurant as my final project. That experience deepened my appreciation of programming, not as lines of code but as a tool to solve real problems in my community.

That same realization guided my next step. I never expected a casual conversation with my principal about a computer science vacancy to lead to the most transformative experience of my life. After consulting with him, I got the opportunity to teach young, curious minds computer science, something I knew and deeply loved. As I stood before my students, the scene shifted from me sitting cross-legged beside my father, watching him teach, to me standing in front of my class gesturing at the whiteboard. I was no longer the one asking the questions; I was the one expected to provide the answers. I never realized teaching eighth graders would teach me so much about myself.

I remember giving my class an assignment and hearing the next day that one student couldn’t complete it because he didn’t have access to a computer. In that moment, I saw myself in him: the child who once grew up in scarcity. That’s when I realized I didn’t want to grow alone. That realization changed how I saw learning: it isn’t just about progress for myself; it is about progress for everyone.

That realization drove me to build a space where curiosity could thrive, even in a region with few resources. That’s how "Innovative Vatika" began. What started as a small group of fifteen classmates exploring simple programs quickly became a place for shared discovery. Together, we worked on projects. Every session, every project, felt like a continuation of the lessons I had learned as a child: the value of knowledge, the joy of creating, and the importance of opening doors for others just as my father once did for me.

These experiences in Surkhet planted a vision that now stretches far beyond my hometown. My journey has always been about more than ambition; it’s been about memory, the quiet kitchen and my father's resolve, and mission, to use technology to create dignity for others. I do not just want to write code; I want to write change. For the child still crying for bread in the night. For the millions who’ve never touched a keyboard but carry brilliance in their mind. And for the dignity of every person whose potential is limited only by the lines of code that haven't yet been written.